Campfire Breakfasts

Having let the fire go out the hut was freezing! Nice and warm under the duvet with Custard wriggled in between us, flat on his back, paws in the air, quietly growling in his sleep, but the hut was so cold you could see your breath.

Leaving the somewhat useless men in bed I hopped out, pulled on boots and a jumper and got the stove going again. Popped a kettle on top and poked my head outside.

Our little meadow was ablaze.

Bathed in the most sensational pink light, with frosted ground and mists rolling in.

Even Custard couldn’t resist coming down to watch!

As the fire crackled away and warmed up our Wriggly Tin, I sat and watched the mists rolling in over the woods.